


porcelain

by intoxicatedclarity (windthorne)



Series: porcelain [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Everything, basically that's all it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1368733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windthorne/pseuds/intoxicatedclarity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bright amber eyes scour the room before landing on deep gray eyes. One glance, one look, one second, one drop of the jaw—that’s all it takes for their lives to be intertwined.</p><p>And so it begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	porcelain

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: i bumped up all the character's ages 3 years. also, in this fic, training begins at 15 and they graduate at 18. nothing drastic, i don't think.
> 
> i don't know what else to say except don't hate me...
> 
> EDIT 8/15/14: i reread this and found so many grammar mistakes that it was just asking to be edited tbh. also, i've added another 1k+. hopefully it's much better than before.
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> ::i do not own snk::

Bright amber eyes scour the room before landing on deep gray eyes. One glance, one look, one second, one drop of the jaw—that’s all it takes for their lives to be intertwined.

And so it begins.

* * *

 

_one._

His eyes laid on her departing figure, his mind drawing a blank and only focusing on the girl that walked past him. It was fast and quick, the way he immediately chased after the beautiful, mysterious, odd-looking girl. He stuttered out that her long hair was beautiful, and received a meager “thanks” before leaving him alone. It was a short meeting, clearly not going the way Jean wanted it to go, but he didn’t fret.

He ran outside the mess hall, wanting to talk to her again—or just to reassure himself that she wasn’t just a fantasy—only to see that she had met up with that stupid Jaeger boy. AKA the boy that he had _just_ tried to make up with back inside.

After wiping his hand on the back of some bald guy, he began to loathe the green-eyed freak, especially when he told her to cut her hair and she  _actually_  did it.

Jean told himself that he didn’t care. She was merely just a pretty girl with hair that he had the urge to run his fingers through. He wasn't here for romance. He was here to escape a war. That was his plan, his only plan from the start. He would make sure that it would be executed perfectly, no fuck ups and _definitely_ no girls to meddle with his mind.

If only that were the case.

As time went on, he became drawn to the exquisite girl. Mikasa was her name (it rolled off his tongue as if he was born to say it) and Eren was his adoptive brother (little titan bastard). He plainly explained to Marco that he didn’t care about that girl nor whom her family was.

Only he did care. He cared a fuck ton.

Because for some forsaken reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He barely knew her himself, and yet he was bothered by that fact.

It started to become painfully obvious to the whole 104th that Jean was stupid and lovesick around the beautiful Mikasa Ackerman. He couldn’t help it—he fumbled in his steps whenever she walked by, ate too much when she sat near him in the mess hall, blushed crimson just at her accidental touch—all instances making it clear that he was an incoherent moron every time she was in his vicinity. Even as he continued to deny it, his actions explained otherwise.

Months went by, and he finally realized he was falling for her. Hard.

Jean Kirschtein, cruelly blunt and honest, selfish and rude—falling for _Mikasa_ of all people.

This was _so_ not part of his plan.

He could have fallen for Krista—she was gorgeous and a little too sweet (but Ymir seemed to have taken claim on her already). Or maybe Sasha could have been the one—she had quite the appetite, and she did have pretty eyes. Maybe even Annie—or actually, maybe not.

But no. He had to fall for _her_.

Mikasa exceled in everything she did, beating everyone in any challenge. She passed academic tests with flying colors, and mastered the 3DMG with little to no guidance. It was obvious that she was bound to be the top of their class, and even Jean (painfully) admitted it.

He himself had been trying to be up to par with her, but one could only go so far when you were against a prodigy like her.

It was in the middle of July when he gathered the courage to speak to her again.

She was sitting in the kitchen, her legs crossed and her hands in her lap, twiddling a loose string on her maroon scarf. He walked up to her before he could chicken out again, and took the seat on the bench across as he tried to ignore the burning sensation on his cheeks.

Mikasa glanced up at him, her eyes shooting bolts up his veins as they stared into his. Jean felt goosebumps appear on his skin, and quickly rubbed his arms to fight the abrupt coolness that was settling around the both of them.

He suddenly forgot what he was going to say. She patiently waited for him to speak, her calm eyes studying him.

Jean took a deep breath, and went for it.

"Uh—um... hi, Mikasa."

What the hell? That was ridiculous.  _Hi?_  That's all he could do? _Jean Kirschtein, you will never live this down._

"Hi."

She was just as timid, her head tilting slightly, still waiting for him to initiate a conversation.

If he had anything to say. What was he even here for again?

"Uh—do you—do you remember me?" he started off, rubbing the back of his head. "We met the first day here.” He pointed to her hair. “I said, uh, that thing, about your hair-“

"That I had beautiful, long hair?" She asked, and he flinched. Mikasa reached for her scarf again. "Yes, I remember you."

"Oh. That’s… that’s cool." He fidgeted with his fingers awkwardly as he tried to come up with something, _anything_ to say to her.

Jean knew that eventually, more people would come to the mess hall and interrupt this moment. After all, their time was limited. If he wanted to talk to her, he needed to do it now.

"You're very skilled." He blurted out, his voice cracking in the midst of it. He cursed himself inwardly ( _why now of all the fucking times?_ ), and immediately regretted ever going up to her.

Mikasa looked up at the boy who had approached her, her eyes like metal, with her mouth shaped into a form of a small smirk. "Why thank you, Jean." she replied quietly.

His eyes widened in surprise. "You know my name?"

He swore he could see a smile—even if it's only for a split second. "Of course I do," she let go of her scarf and placed her hands on the table. "You know mine."

Jean smirked. "Well of course I know yours," He stated, crossing his arms on the table as well. "You’re the only Mikasa I know, the only Mikasa I've ever known to be exact."

Her expression was blank, but her tone sounded rather quirky. "You're the only Jean I know."

He chuckled, turning away to avoid her eyes.

At first, their conversation went at a very slow pace, little words here and there, a compliment sometimes. He didn’t get to say much more to her after Jaeger and Armin came over, which in turn started another quarrel (“Why are you sitting by my sister, Kirschtein?” “Why do you care, Jaeger?”).

The next day he came over to her table again, where she sat in the exact same place as yesterday. Mikasa watched him as he approached her, as if she was expecting him.

Jean couldn’t help but grin.

But their words aren’t much of a step up.

 “What do you think of the weather?”

_Oh my Sina, Jean, you are truly the ladies man now._

“It’s nice.”

_Of course. We’re back to two word sentences now._

“… It’s nicer than back in my old town.”

Jean raised a brow, now slightly curious. “Where did you used to live?”

“Shiganshina.” She whispered, being just as blunt as him.

_Oh. That place._

A brief moment passed, and he watched as her hand went for that scarf—again, he must reiterate—and clutched it fiercely, her knuckles turning whiter than her pale skin.

Jean was a thinker, and a keen observer. He knew she wasn’t lying.

But she wasn’t exactly telling the truth. There was definitely more to her past than she was letting on.

He wasn’t going to berate her for it, though. If she didn’t want to tell him certain things, then so be it. They’d only been talking for a day.

Jean quickly changed the subject, not wanting her to recuperate in any memories that came with her past. He jabbed a finger into his chest. “I used lived in Trost.”

A subtle smile. “How is it there?”

And then they were back to square one. Or maybe two…

As days passed, she began to expect him coming over to the mess hall to talk to her in their free time. He would practically sprint just to chat to her for a few minutes. It was more than nothing, and he would make do with what he had.

Their talks were filled with more stupid comments about the weather (when there wasn't even a window beside them), little remarks about Eren (which Mikasa calmly responded with a glare), even going to a point where Mikasa teased Jean's maneuver gear skills, even though he was one of the best in the 104th (not better than her however). They also chatted about the branches they planned on joining, even though Mikasa already knew his. It was a no-brainer for Jean—the Military Police was his only goal in mind. For her, it was different, as she had yet to decide.

"I'll go wherever Eren goes." Her answer was plain and simple, yet vague and not clear-cut like all the other things he knew about her.

Jean simply nodded to this answer, trying not to let the fact that she mentioned Eren affect him.

The awkwardness between them had slightly disappeared, and while it was still there, there was also a sense of serenity that took his mind off the war when around her. Jean liked the idea of this, the idea of her, taking away the thoughts that lingered in his mind (thoughts about titans, annoying green-eyed boys, and home). He felt comfortable around her, in a way that he didn’t feel around anyone except Marco.

After a few weeks, Jean didn’t hesitate in admitting it anymore.

He had a crush on Mikasa Ackerman.

* * *

 

_two._

Their relationship built up as the seasons passed, training ending and graduation approaching. They were past acquaintances, their daily lives involving little bits and pieces of the other. It was still a slow pace for Jean—but he didn’t mind, nor seem to notice it.

In the mornings when the sun had barely risen over the horizon, Mikasa relied on his simple morning greetings to keep her motivated and awake during the day. In the afternoons during breaks, he sat by her in the mess hall and spoke to her, learning miniscule details about her without knowing it. In the evenings when they all headed to bed, he made sure to tell her goodnight, even though he had no reason to.

Jean learned to treasure these little moments, because whenever she wasn’t with him, she was almost _always_ with Eren.

Suicidal bastard.

Jean confided about her to Marco, sometimes rambling without even knowing it. Marco told him that he needed to tell her soon, before things got real and they were put on the front lines. Jean snorted at this, telling him that there was no need—they were headed to the Police, where there wouldn't be Titans anywhere near them.

Graduation arrived, and as predicted, Mikasa was ranked one. Jean felt as though she was probably too good for him anyway, even though he was the sixth best.

He soon realized days before the trip to Trost that there was no point in pursuing her. Months of working up the courage to talk to her and daily conversations—and she had chosen the Scouting Legion to be with Eren.

Of fucking course.

Even with all that talent, she planned to waste it all by going to her death in the Legion. But, it was her decision, and he had no way of changing that.

Jean reminded himself that his plan this whole time had been to go to the Police—that had been his plan, was still his plan.

_Wasn't it?_

The next day, they arrived at Trost, one day before he would leave for Wall Sina.

It was in that day that Jean saw more deaths than he ever thought he would have seen in his whole life.

One of those deaths including Marco.

He was broken down beyond repair from the things he saw that day, completely lost after the battle.

The deaths of his comrades took an unbearable toll on him, to a point where he decided to choose the Scouting Legion. To fight. To defeat the Titans and take back what they took away.

But it wasn’t easy for him to recover. Months went by, filled with lifeless eyes and dried tears. Nightmares of blood and terror kept him awake at night, staring at the ceiling above him while Eren snored away.

He knew he had practically committed suicide coming here to the Legion. He questioned himself at times, forgetting his reasoning and just asking himself _why was he still here?_

Mikasa caught him one night sitting alone in the empty mess hall, the moon the only light that shined on her figure. It was late and neither of them should have been awake or out of their rooms at the time, but neither seemed to care. He didn’t even try to hide the empty tears running down his face, and she didn’t need to ask what he was crying about because _she already knew._

Instead she said nothing, pulling him in for a hug, tip-toeing to accommodate her arms around his neck. He stilled, not knowing whether to grasp her with his life or keep his arms by his side. He had craved her hugs for so long, but now that she was here, he didn’t have a clue what to do.

Slowly, he brought his arms to wrap around her body, holding her tight.

They didn’t exchange words as he cried into her hair. He didn’t care that he looked unmanly and weak. In a world like this, he didn't care anymore.

Her voice was timid and hushed, so low that Jean didn’t hear her at first.

"The world is cruel, Jean."

_Hell yes it is._

"I've lost people, too," She explained, her arms still wrapped around his neck. "I've lost people too."

"Who?" He asked between small sniffs.

He could feel her stiffen at his question, but it quickly disappeared as if it never happened. She sighed, her breath shaking and her hands clutching the back of his shirt tighter.

"My parents."

She didn’t say anything after that. She didn’t need to.

It was the first time she had opened up to him about her past. He didn’t push it—no that wasn’t what either of them wanted. They were are all still suffering from what had happened.

Unlike him, she was better at hiding her sorrow.

He didn’t remember when she had finally let go, nor when they both had left. The only thing Jean had remembered was holding her in his arms to keep himself sane, to keep himself going, to keep himself somewhat alive.

It was the only thing he could do.

Because how could he survive in such a miserable life if he didn’t have a dash of hope left?

He had lost his way, his hope disappearing slowly. But he found it again.

She was hope.

* * *

 

_three._

Jean was 19 when Reiner and Bertholdt had kidnapped Eren and the whole military was sent to save him.

He had been angered by every little thing that had caused this mess—the fact that Reiner and Bertholdt were the fucking armored and colossal titan didn’t sit well with him. Plus the fact that Eren had been kidnapped (how did he even get himself in these situations), and that Ymir was a titan too—he had a right to be this annoyed.

How was he supposed to protect his friends if they were all keeping these damn _kind of important_ secrets from everyone?

He felt as if he was cursed to be in the 104th, for every single one of them apparently had a secret ability that could either make or break mankind. He had refused to believe that any of this was true.

Not until he saw it for himself.

They had been horribly outnumbered during the battle to save Eren, and Jean had begun to believe that they might not make it back. Commander Erwin had lost an arm, Eren was still in the possession of the two traitors, and he could feel his energy depleting faster and faster.

All this work, just to save that stupid titan boy that humanity needed desperately.

Jean had been riding his horse alongside the rest of what remained of the 104th, trying to reach Reiner, when it had happened.

Right before his eyes, Mikasa mistakenly had flied right into the hands of a titan, who immediately began to squeeze the life out of her. He had heard bones crack amidst the chaos unfolding around them—could still hear them fracturing in his head—and he didn’t even think.

"Mikasa! SHIT!" he had yelled frantically. " _YOU BASTARD! LET GO OF HER!_ "

Jean didn’t even notice he was stabbing the eye of the titan until he had felt blood splatter over him. He didn’t give a fuck, snapping his head to where Mikasa was to see that she was still alive, but in no means capable of moving. Yet, she still went on towards Eren with whatever strength she had left, going forward as if she was perfectly fine.

He didn’t hesitate to follow after her. Who knew what would have happened if he hadn’t been there to save her?

She would be dead and gone.

_Just like Marco..._

Jean quickly shook the thought out of his mind, and had continued on. He couldn’t think about that kind of thing, not when others were dying around him.

Eren had been saved from the bastards, but nobody had gotten to celebrate. The losses in this fight had been the worst out of any other battle they had fought, smiles nowhere to be found as they made their way back to the HQ. The death toll had been the highest, mostly from the Military Police, and there had been no time to mourn.

All Jean wanted was to sleep it all away.

Two nights later, the Legion had settled down from the previous state of emergency they were in, and Jean had somewhat caught up in his slumber. There was no snoring Eren to keep him awake, the titan boy still in the infirmary recovering. Jean didn’t complain.

He heard a knock on his door that night, and he reluctantly answered it, opening the door slowly in his groggy state.

He was met with jet black hair and deep charcoal eyes.

His heart skipped a beat as he immediately swung the door open for her to enter.

"Mikasa," he breathed her name like a prayer, "What are you doing here?"

She wasn’t looking at him. "I just got out of the infirmary and…” Her eyes focused on the wooden floor below them. “I wanted—needed to come here."

He raised a brow, noting how she had been injured pretty badly. "Uh, Mikasa," he watched her struggle to walk towards him. His hand flew out on instinct, grabbing her hand. "Shouldn't you not walk around? Your injuries-"

"I'm fine." She replied, holding up her free hand. He ignored her trademark statement, the words meaning nothing to him as he wrapped his arm protectively around her waist, guiding her inside his room.

Despite her early protests, she didn’t bother to argue with him as he lead her to his bed, telling her to sit. She obeyed him and sat in the warm spot where he had just been lying on.

Jean stood back and leaned against the wall beside them, watching her intently. She wasn’t wearing a scarf, which was definitely a first.

"You okay?" He asked out of consideration.

"I'm fine." She repeated again.  _Of course she was._

Jean sighed, rubbing his face. She wasn’t going to stop with that, no matter what.

He waited patiently—or as patiently as he could get—for her to say what she came here for. There was always a reason if _she_ was the one that came to _him_.

But she didn’t say anything, only stared at the floor and bunched her nimble fingers in her long skirt.

He supposed he would have to speak first. "So what do you need?" he asked, crossing his arms.

Her hand reached up to her neck, imitating the gesture of grabbing her signature scarf, only to realize that it wasn’t there. She stilled, avoiding eye contact and twiddled her fingers instead.

"I..." He saw her blush, almost as bright as her nonexistent accessory. "I—I just... I just wanted to say thank you."

That was unexpected. "For what?"

Her cheeks flushed even more, and Jean was absolutely certain that she was doing everything she could to not glance at him.

One of the strongest soldiers in the Legion, and yet she couldn’t look him in the eye right now. Interesting.

"For... for saving me," She responded, "For getting that titan to let go of me."

Jean craned his neck awkwardly, now looking away from her. "Uh... Thanks..." He said softly.

_She was saying… thank you?_

"If you hadn't saved me, I wouldn't have saved Eren." He blatantly ignored how she had mentioned Eren again. "And I would probably be dead right now. And... just thank you." She finally looked up at him at the same time he looked back at her, and their eyes locked into a stare.

He didn’t look away. "You don't need to thank me, Mikasa," He walked over and sat beside her on the lukewarm sheets. "It's just me. I'll always have your back."

_I'll always protect you._

"No," she laid a hand on his. "I need to. You didn't have to do that for me... but you did. And I'm just... very thankful to have you."

He chuckled, holding back a snarky comment (because it was Mikasa). "Well, you're welcome," He grasped her hand fully, nerves dissipating. "I would do it again if I had to. I wouldn't even think twice about it." He squeezed her hand, "You're not dying on me, Mikasa."

"Jean..." She turned away from his gaze.

"Somebody's got to protect you while you're protecting your stupid brother."

Mikasa looked back at him with a smile on her face. A smile. A legit, iridescent, beautiful smile.

_Well, damn. What I would give to see that everyday._

"Well then I'm glad that it's you." She said before she chastely pressed her lips to his cheek.

It barely even lasted a second, but to Jean it felt like forever.

_Is this real life?_

She pulled away after a moment, and Jean couldn’t hide his reddened cheeks even if he tried.

"Thanks again, Jean." She got up calmly and began to waddle back to the infirmary, leaving him there in a dazed state.

Instead, however, Jean stood and grasped her wrist, gently tugged her back towards him. Her eyes widened and she started to speak when he swiftly pressed his lips to hers.

It was short and sweet—well, if knocking into each other’s teeth counted as sweet—and far too brief for Jean's liking, but he reluctantly pulled away so that she wouldn’t get angry. Her face was filled with surprise, but he quickly spoke before she could sprint off.

"Sorry, ah..." He nervously looked away. "I just... I had to do that."

Mikasa grabbed his chin and turned his face to look at him. "Why?" She asked, her voice out of breath, and not out of anger, but out of wonder.

He breathed heavily through his words as they spilled from his mouth, unable to control himself.

"I thought I was going to lose you."

He couldn't hold back anymore. He couldn't keep it locked away inside his mind forever. In their world, there was no time for secrets. No time for words left unsaid. No time for the untold.

"I thought..." He ran his hands through his hair anxiously. "I thought you were going to die. I thought I would never see you again."

He kept his eyes off her, choosing to stare at the oak wood below him. "I thought you were dying right in front of me and I would have to see another person be ripped away from my life."

His hands were fisted, clutching at an unknown figure, and his heart _blazed_. "I thought you were going to die, and I wouldn't get the chance to tell you—and I didn't even think twice about killing that titan."

She didn’t comment, waiting for him to finish, always patient to hear what he had to say. He turned away from her, unable to look at her because he was spewing out words a mile a minute and now he was unstoppable.

"Mikasa... I thought of Marco... Marco..."

She laid a hand on his shoulder from behind, her head coming to rest on his back. He felt another heartbeat, calmer than his but strong—strong and _alive_. It gave him enough strength to keep talking, even though it pained him.

"I thought of him and how he's dead—he’s fucking _dead_. How he’s gone and how I couldn’t save him and I couldn’t let that happen to you and—" He rubbed his face with his hands, exhaustion overpowering him. "Goddamnit Mikasa I _can't lose you_."

It was silent for a long time, and Jean didn’t know how she was reacting to this. He had been talking so fast. His back was turned on her and he was scared to turn around.

After a moment, he heard her sigh and then she tugged his sleeve, gesturing him to face her. He turned and saw her intense stare. He had been distressed and nervous, and he hadn’t been able to _breath_ , but just looking at her seemed to calm him down, even with the look she was giving him.

Because she was still alive, still there for him.

She raised a hand to his cheek, cupping it softly as her mouth parted slowly. "You won't lose me, Jean." She said simply, bringing her face closer to his. "I'm not going anywhere."

She initiated the kiss this time, pulling him closer to her and wrapping her arms around his neck. He kissed her back fiercely, emotions pouring out, but his grip remained loose around her waist to avoid hurting her ribs.

He promised himself to never, ever let go of her.

* * *

 

_four._

Two years passed, and things had changed dramatically. Eren had almost mastered his titan powers entirely, but he still had yet to obtain the power to crystallize. But while he lacked this ability, he still managed to excel in everything else, not to mention the fact that he could command the titans and did exactly that, giving the Legion a huge advantage as their journey outside the walls increased in danger and numbers.

Jean was still not used to each mission outside the walls. No matter how many times he ventured out, there was always a fear that something disastrous would occur. And he had every right to feel that way.

He had lost many comrades, too many to count. Most of what remained of the 104th was still here, but it was few. Very few.

As time had passed, Jean's strength grew, enough to where he could witness a death and not even bat an eyelash.

Some people said he was cut out to be the next commander, and while that gave him pride, it also gave him a feeling deep in his gut that made him want to curl up in his bed and never see daylight again.

Was he that cruel enough to bear such a responsibility?

The bed he lied on shifted suddenly, a body turning towards him and nestling on his chest.

He was suddenly brought back to reality by a slap upside his head. "Jean.” A voice chuckled, echoing around the hollow room. "What's on your mind?"

Jean shook his head and blinked. He was lying in bed beside Mikasa, her black hair spread out across his pillows and arms laid on top of his chest. Her body was splayed next to his, her forehead rested neatly under his chin.

He seemed to forget that this was real—it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Jean shrugged casually, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer. "Nothing," He smirked as he ran his fingers through her hair. "Just thinking about..." He shifted nervously. "Uh... You."

She raised a brow at his answer, giving him a look that basically said ‘ _yeah right_.’

He was never good with words around her, and frankly, she wasn't either. But they both knew enough of each other to know that he was lying. But she didn’t push it.

Mikasa rolled her eyes, smiling. "Of course you were."

A year of stolen kisses, longing glances, and secret hand holding had gone by before they became a public thing. Everybody knew that they were a couple and it was becoming—quite literally—painfully obvious to see them try to hide such a heist.

_“Mikasa, Jean, we know you guys are in there.” Armin had stated to them one day when they had ran away into a closet. Eren had caught them making out in his and Jean’s room, and before Eren could transform into a titan, they had both practically bolted out of the room and had ran here._

_“Come out now, he’s not here.” Armin’s calm voice soothed the both of them, but Jean wouldn’t budge._

_Mikasa, however, was already clutching the door knob._

_“Jean, just let me go talk to Eren—“_

_“Oh, no you are_ so _not doing that right now!” Jean draped his hand over hers and kept her from barging through the door. “I am not ready to see Jaeger go titan on me!”_

_Mikasa rolled her eyes with a blank face, tugging the door. “He’s not going to hurt you if I just talk to him—“_

_“He’s not going to listen to you! He never listens to you! Or Armin! Or anyone!”_

_She glared at him. “I_ will _talk to Eren.”_

_Her strength overpowered his in a second and she had flung the door open—_

_Right to the faces of Armin… and that damn—_

_“You’re dead, Kirschtein.”_

It took a week before Eren and Jean stopped bickering and Eren could keep his hands off him.

It took another for everybody to calm down, and for them to finally admit to being a couple—not that anybody was surprised (except Eren, but there was no point in ever trying to inform him).

It took at least another three months before everybody—namely Connie and Ymir—was able to quit messing with Jean over why she picked him.

Honestly, he still didn't know how he was able to get her. Not that it mattered now, when they were here in his bed, cuddling. That was all he needed to be happy.

They could make jokes and make fun of him, saying that she deserved way better (which she probably did), but he wouldn’t care, because at the end of the day, she was in his arms and not in anybody else's.

Jean yawned loudly, slowly sitting up and taking her with him. She groaned and sat beside him, glaring. He laughed and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"It's getting late, now," He rubbed his face tiredly. "Maybe we should... get some rest."

Mikasa quirked a brow, her expression changing as he stared back in confusion. "Or maybe we shouldn't."

Jean's eyes widened. "Huh?"

She fully smirked now—since when did Mikasa smirk?—and pushed him on his back while climbing on top of him. His cheeks flushed and he could feel himself heat up. 

 _Holy shit_.

Mikasa leaned down and breathed into his ear, shivers running up his spine and heat rushing down. Her hands pressed against his sides, coolness and hotness mixing together and temporarily blinding him.

_Holy shit._

"I don't want to sleep yet, Jean." she simply stated.

It suddenly became unbearably hot in his room.

Jean gulped, the air around him tight. "Uh—then—" She shifted her body slightly and he repressed a groan. "Let's not, then."

Neither of them had ever talked about... whatever they were doing right now. It had never really come up. Sure, there would be times when they were hungry and needy for the other, lust-filled kisses and heavy make outs involved (which Jean was always welcome for).

But this... This was new.

Even though they had been together for quite a while, Jean was always hesitant, waiting for her to initiate this for them. When she was ready, he would be.

And that time seemed to be tonight.

Mikasa sighed, her hands rubbing his sculpted arms hidden underneath his wrinkled shirt. He noticed that she was nervous, too, her breath shaky and her eyes avoiding his.

"Do you want to..." He trailed off as her eyes darted up to meet his.

She pressed a light kiss to his lips, asserting her confidence again. "Yes." She answered. "Yes, I do."

Jean smiled at that, his hands coming up to grasp her hips. "Are you sure?"

Mikasa nodded, snapping her hips to meet his and eliciting a small moan from him. "I'm sure, Jean." She announced, never backing down from a challenge. "I want it to be with you."

Jean finally took this chance and kissed her in response, hungrily pressing her closer to him before flipping them over. She fell on her back and moaned as he pressed butterfly kisses on her neck, descending downward as he unbuttoned her shirt. She did the same with his, ripping it open and pressing her cool, cool hands on his warm skin.

Their first time was messy and quick, not like either of them imagined it to be. Jean didn’t last long—both expected this—but to his surprise, Mikasa didn’t, either. It hurt her as equally as it pleasured her, but she didn’t seem to care whenever Jean wrapped his arms around her. His skin was marked with cuts from war and now from her, along with mussed hair and bruised lips that matched hers.

She fell asleep quickly after, and he, too, fell into a dreamless state. When they woke up, they continued where they left off, and they both agreed that it was much better than the first. She was on top and he watched her ride him, and he didn’t even care that he didn’t last (again). He was hers, and she was his, and nobody else got to see her like this, nobody got to see her beauty in the dark.

Nobody got to see how perfect she was to him.

"I love you," He muttered in his sleep, not realizing he had said it out loud until he felt her stiffen.

His heart seemed to have stopped. Oh, Sina, he had done it. He was done for. Damnit, he was _so_ done for.

A quiet moment passed, before she kissed him, a grin spread across her lips. "And I love you." She replied with the same words, and he could hear his own heart pound into his chest again, ready to explode.

In the morning, he woke up to pale skin and a smile that gave him enough energy to get out of bed, even at the most ungodly hours.

It was all he needed.

She was all he needed.

* * *

 

_five._

At 26, Jean was the newly appointed Commander of the Scouting Legion, along with the highly ranked Corporal Ackerman. What was left of the cadets in the Legion were named veterans, and with more than 10 years of service in the military, they desired peace more than ever. War was a daily topic in their lives and humanity was still fighting. Still determined to win. Still hoping.

How had they survived that many years in the legion without dying—now that was a mystery in itself.

The new cadets were always curious about the relationship between the commander and the corporal, and Squad Leader Jaeger was always happy to extinguish these rumors—“it's none of your business, you little dipshits!"

And to be honest, nothing had really happened between them for the past few years. Yes, they were dating, and yes, they were in love. All of this was established long ago and it was a known fact.

They had been together for six years, and through these years they had memorized each other by heart, knowing each other inside and out. They were the only ones to have lasted this long, when everybody thought they wouldn't.

She knew what buttons to push to make him angry or to make him calm down, he knew what to say to make her annoyed or to make her think. She knew what he smelled like and he knew the right way to make her coffee. She knew he struggled with his right arm a little more than he used to, he knew her eyesight was beginning to dull, even if it was only just a tad bit blurry.

She knew he was bound to be leader one day, he knew she was bound to be corporal. She knew he loved her, he knew she loved him.

It was simple logic.

So of course, the idea of marriage was there.

The first time it was mentioned was a few nights before they had both moved up ranks, during dinner in the mess hall with their friends. Connie had been talking about how Erwin and Hanji had married and finally settled down, when Sasha had popped the question.

_"So, when are you going to ask her, Jean?" she had blurted out without thought, fingers wrapping around her drink as she pointed a finger at Mikasa._

_Both of them had instantly blushed, unable to look at the other, and Jean didn't know how to respond. "Um... I..."_

_Luckily, Historia had been there to save them from the unfolding awkwardness. "Sasha, you don't ask the guy that kind of question when the girl is right next to him!" She had made sure to give both of them a brief smile, trying to release the tension._

_Sasha giggled, waving her hand in defense. "Sorry, sorry! I wasn't thinking!"_

_"You never are, potato girl."_

_"Oh, can it, baldie! That was years ago!"_

_Jean had looked over at Mikasa, who had resorted to staring at the glass of wine before her, lost in thought. He gulped inwardly, his throat going dry._

_He glanced up to see Eren staring him down, the usual angry look on his face with his brow raised high._

_Jean shot back an equally menacing glare, as if it would stop the man from looking at him._

_It was as if Eren was challenging him, or for better words, ordering him to do something about this situation. As in…_

_Propose to her already!_

And that was how he ended up here in front of the training room, his right hand in his pocket, thumbing a tiny silver ring. It wasn't anything special at all, nowhere near as beautiful as the ones in Sina, but this was all he could afford, and he barely had time to look for one anyway. It wasn't the best, but it would have to do. Mikasa wasn't one for the fancy things, anyway.

Jean took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself down, before opening the door and walking in.

The room was filled with the nasty stench of sweat and people working out, lifting weights and using the makeshift machines to train. The girls were in the corner watching the guys work out, and while he noticed them looking at him, he didn't even acknowledge them.

Everybody knew that Mikasa and Jean were solely and utterly tied to each other and only each other, but it didn't stop new trainees from giving the commander lovey-dovey eyes, or from hearing the younger boys whistle at their corporal's toned body.

Jean wanted to punch them in the gut for that, but as commander, he managed to repress this... most of the time.

Unfortunately, this moment was not one of those times.

He saw his girlfriend (a word he was still not used to saying), currently lifting weights with no shirt on and black, skin-tight shorts, giving him and many other interested boys a look at her glorious body.

Jean didn’t like it one bit.

He marched up to his lover and stood beside her as she finished a set of lifting. His bolo tie shined in the light as he crossed his arms and cleared his throat roughly. "Corporal."

Mikasa gave him a once-over and sighed, sitting up, her body glistening with sweat. She raised a brow at his tense position. "Jean." She replied in a regular tone, completely disregarding his rank.

Jean huffed at her lack of clothes. "Corporal, please put on a shirt," He nervously commanded as he ran a hand through his unruly hair. "And... also pants. Pants would be good, too."

Mikasa stared at him with a blank face and a tiny, tiny smile, one that wouldn't even be noticeable if he didn't know her well enough. "Jean, I'm working out." She countered, crossing her arms. Jean watched her every move. "I want to be comfortable. And, I'm really hot." She gestured her arms to the air around them, summer heat and all.

"You can be comfortable in a shirt and pants," Jean argued, his hands clammy. "And I know you’re hot. You don't need to take off your clothes to prove your point."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not trying to prove a point."

"Then put on clothes." He ordered.

"I already have clothes on, commander." She gritted out.

Jean sighed tiredly. "Mikasa, I can't fucking propose to you in an outfit like that."  _Oops. Too late._  "So please, help me out, and change your goddamn clothes!"

Once again, the commander had said too much. The whole room went silent as people watch their commander and corporal stare at each other in awe.

"Wait, what?" She asked in astonishment.

"Um—Uh—" He stuttered nervously, becoming the stupid 15 year old Jean again. "Fucking—fuck."

Mikasa stood, getting a better look at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "Say... say that one part again." She commanded softly.

"Um... fucking fuck?"

"No, not that part, idiot," She slapped his shoulder. "The other one."

He gulped, changing the subject quickly. "Put on your clothes." He said sternly, his voice wavering throughout.

She didn’t argue, throwing her discarded shirt on, and put her hands on her hips, waiting for an answer.

Jean suddenly became shaky, and his knees felt like they were about to fail him.

He was the fucking commander, and yet his cadets were watching him as he practically fell apart at the hands of his girl.

"Jean," She tapped her foot impatiently. "I'm waiting."

He shook his head. "Right, right."

"What do you want, _commander_?"

She was throwing his rank name, and that only implied that she was getting angry again. He didn’t let any more time pass and immediately kneeled down on his right leg. He stumbled halfway and almost lost balance, but gathered himself in the same second. Mikasa's eyes widened again, her hands coming up to cover her painted cheeks.

Jean could feel the beady sweat on his forehead, but he didn’t care. "Shit." he muttered, as he pulled out the ring in his pocket.

He could hear Eren and Armin running inside the room hurriedly ("It's happening! It's finally happening!" "Why the fuck did he not warn us!").

The whole room was silent as Jean took a deep breath. "Mikasa," He started, holding the ring in his hands. "You know I'm not good with words. I've never been good with them. And I really hate doing this, but I know I need to do this to get you." He glanced up into her gray eyes. "I only want you. I've always wanted you, and now I'm asking to have you for the rest of my life." He could see tears falling from her eyes, but he didn’t stop.

"You have always been there for me. You are my best friend, my girlfriend, the love of my life. And you are our corporal, the Corporal Ackerman." He stilled. "But I don't like the sound of that."

She raised a brow at this.  _Fuck,_   _wrong words._

"I mean, I love your name, don't get me wrong. Ackerman is a beautiful name, yes, but—" He looked deep into her eyes as he spoke. "I'd rather it be Kirschtein instead."

A wide grin spread across his face, and Jean chuckled.  _Nailed it._

"So, Mikasa Ackerman," He raised the ring to her. "Will you marry me?"

She didn’t even hesitate to answer, throwing her arms around him without even grasping the ring. "Yes, you idiot!" She yelled as he almost fell over from a heart attack. "Yes, yes, yes!"

He hugged her back just as tight, standing up to spin her around. The whole room exploded into sounds of congrats and claps, along with girls crying over their tied-down commander. Jean raised a fist in the air in triumph. He finally had her, forever.

He slid the ring onto her finger, tears streaming down her face the whole time, before giving her a whooping kiss in front of everybody. He heard the screams of Connie and Sasha—“She said yes!"—and smiled. He wiped the happy tears off her face and laughed, feeling the happiest he had ever felt in a long time.

A quick celebration of their engagement delayed their next few missions, but that didn’t stop the couple from wedding and finally being together as husband and wife. The love story of the commander and corporal spread throughout the cities in the walls, a love that was still strong in a world where there was no happiness.

But there was happiness.

It was with her, with Mikasa, with his wife. He didn't think he would find it in this life, but he did.

He found happiness in this cruel world.

* * *

 

But like they say, all good things never last.

It only lasted three years before it all came crashing down.

Jean was there to see it again, see her almost die again, see her eyes lose color again.

Only this time he didn’t save her.

It was too fast, too quick for him to process. The deviant was crazy, smashing people left and right against the bark of the giant trees around them.

One of them including her.

He was there when she was crushed by the titan foot, her body splayed against the tree like a bug squashed. There was blood, so much blood, but it's not the titan's blood. It was hers, and now she was lifeless in his arms.

He had killed the titan faster than she could kill 20, blades slicing through flesh so deep the neck hung off. He didn’t give a fuck, flying towards her and screaming her name in a clouded frenzy.

She was too far gone to respond to him, her pulse silent and her eyes wide open. He was hysterical, bursting into tears, a state that no one had even seen him in, no one but her, and now she was gone.

The state of the Legion was in an emergency, and Eren had to pull Jean away from her corpse. Armin clutched her lithe figure with tears, but he quickly wrapped her as if to stop the blood from spreading on their clothes even more.

Her blood, her blood on his clothes, her inner being spread out across the crimson grass-

Eren and Jean were silent on the way back, Armin having to take the lead in order to get them back home. Jean was too unstable to lead, he said.

The corporal was gone, and everybody was mourning over the loss of her and the other soldiers.

Jean stared off into space, his eyes resting on the body bag beside him. He didn’t look anywhere else.

He didn't even get to say goodbye.

* * *

 

 _one_.

The door opens with a bell dinging, signaling the arrival of another intern. The woman at the counter takes one look at the man walking in, before peering back down, knowing that it was another interview.

It's approximately 8:58 AM, two minutes before Jean would have been pronounced late. He had made it just in time, clad in a newly bought button-down with black slacks and shined shoes. He's fixed his hair to look somewhat proper, and he's also managed to freshen up.

"Are you the other 9:00 appointment with Levi?" The girl asks. Jean nods, fixing the tie that he had on.

"Take the elevator to the 3rd floor and take a right. It will be the first door you see." She orders blankly, waving him off.

Jean makes his way to the elevator, strolling in and watching the metal doors slide closed. The elevator goes up one floor and then stops, opening up again to let another passenger enter.

Jean stares at his reflection in the mirror beside him, noting just how _dashing_ he looked today, before turning around and noticing the person beside him.

His eyes widen immediately.  _Whoa._

A woman with long, black hair that shined in the elevator light stands beside him. Her stature is shorter than his, but certainly not smaller. He notes that she has curves, and is entranced by her dark eyes, taking her all in in less than a few seconds.

"Hey." He blurts out. She looks up at him, gray eyes meeting his amber ones.

"Hi." She answers, bringing the papers she’s holding up to her chest.

"Um—" He doesn't know what to say, scratching his head. "Do you work here, by any chance?"

She shakes her head, looking in the mirror beside her and fixing the crimson scarf wrapped around her neck. "I'm here for an interview actually." She answers with a fixed, calm voice.

He raises a brow. "Oh," He says. "Me too."

She fixes the white dress she’s wearing, smoothing it out with her hands. "I know. I can tell by your outfit. Very spiffy."

He chuckles, tugging his tie with pride. "Why, thank you," He replies. "You don't look so bad yourself."

"Thanks." She tugs her scarf up to hide her flushed cheeks.

Jean smirks. "What’s your name?" He asks, curious of this beautiful girl beside him.

"Mikasa," She answers, looking back at him. "Mikasa Ackerman."

His eyes widen, vague images of blood and giants flashing through his mind before being replaced with empty thoughts. It's too fast for him to dwell on it, and he clears his throat.

"Mikasa Ackerman," The name rolls off his tongue perfectly. He takes note of it. "Pretty name for a pretty girl."

He watches how her blush deepens even more, turning away from his gaze.

 _She's a cutie_. "I'm Jean Kirschtein."

He sees a look spread across her face at the mention of his name, but it disappears quickly. "Jean Kirschtein." She repeats slowly.

Jean feels confused all of a sudden, but he doesn't understand why. He decides to push these meddling thoughts away, instead holding his hand out towards her, ignoring the nervous feeling inside him.

"Nice to meet you, Mikasa." He makes sure to give her the most suave Kirschtein smile ever.

She grabs his hand and shakes it firmly, smiling back at him beneath her scarf. "Nice to meet you."

Their meeting is stopped short when the elevator opens abruptly. They nod off at each other as she walks out, before suddenly turning towards him.

"I guess I'll see you around?" Her questioning tone earns a smirk from him.

"If you really wanted that." He sends her a wink, and she rolls her eyes. They both knew they would see more of each other here. He knew he would see her again.

“Goodbye, Jean.” She says his name with elegance, an empowering sound that draws him in.

This was definitely not the last goodbye.

“Goodbye, Mikasa.”

The elevator closes and he watches the way her hair swishes as she walks away.

Kind of like the way it did before...

_Before? Before what?_

He shakes his head, more confused than ever. The hell was wrong with him right now?

Jean still doesn't think too much about it. It's probably just his nerves for the interview with Levi. He tries to think of ways to calm himself down in an attempt to collect himself.

So he thinks of her.

_Mikasa Ackerman..._

The name sounds all too familiar, but at the same time not at all. But it doesn't matter to him.

Jean just hopes to see more of her, of that girl with the beautiful, black hair.

_I'll see you again... One day..._

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: shitty ending omg i'm sorry. I'm so mean to Jean. i originally planned this to just end bad with no happy ending, but jean is my fav character and he just deserves some love gdi. that poor thing...
> 
> also, thank you so much for all the fav's and reviews! you guys are rad. :)
> 
> let me know what you think!


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